Of course this happens on a Thursday
by Severusslave
Summary: BtVS/Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy crossover. Xander-centric! ... ... ... Summary: Earth's demolition.


Title: **Of course this happens on a Thursday**

Author: Severusslave

Rating: R

Crossover: BtVS/HHGttG

Warnings: implied Character Death, Sarcasm, Vorgons

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, nor do I own any rights to the television show "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" or the book triology in five parts "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy".

Notes:

+ Written for lj community 'crossovers100'; Challenge 3: Ends

+ My claim's Xander Harris of BtVS.

+ Of course, the first story of 100 and I'm offing my claim. Go figure.

+ Parts of this are from Douglas Adams' original book. No offence.

Summary: Earth's demolition.

Xander had always thought that when the end of the world would finally - and he meant really, really, finally - come, it would be caused by some demon or other. And he would probably know the demon. Face it, man, he told himself, you would probably have slept with it at least once.

Now he knew that the cruel reality was quite different from what he had expected.

He stared up to the sky, stared up at one of the great ships that hung motionless in the air, over every nation on Earth.

"Of course this happens on a Thursday," said Xander musing to himself, "I never could get the hang out of Thursdays."

He felt sweat run down his neck soaking up his white wifebeater that he ususally wore here on the site and wished he had a towel.

Motionless the ships hung, huge, heavy, steady in the sky, a blasphemy against nature. Many people went straight into shock as their minds tried to encompass what they were looking at. Xander was used to blasphemy against nature. Still.

The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don't.

It was nauseating in a shit-I-am-a-scifi-geek-I-SO-know-that-this-is-NOT-going-to-be-something-good way. Xander hated that feeling.

Suddenly there was a slight whisper, a sudden spacious whisper of open ambient sound. Every hi fi set in the world, every radio, every television, every cassette recorder, every woofer, every tweeter, every mid-range driver in the world quietly turned itself on.

Every tin can, every dust bin, every window, every car, every wine glass, every sheet of rusty metal became activated as an acoustically perfect sounding board.

Xander thought that it was sarcastically, typically representative for his life that the site for Sunnydale's newest Starbucks, it's fourth, has better acoustics then any stereo he'd ever might own.

"People of Earth, your attention please," a voice said and Xander thought it was the late Principal Snyder speaking, but it wasn't, "This is Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz of the Galactic Hyperspace Planning Council," the voice continued.

"As you will no doubt be aware, the plans for development of the outlying regions of the Galaxy require the building of a hyperspatial express route through your star system, and regrettably your planet is one of those scheduled for demolition. The process will take slightly less that two of your Earth minutes. Thank you."

Uncomprehending terror settled on the watching people of Earth. Or so Xander assumed. Apparently he was right: "There's no point in acting all surprised about it. All the planning charts and demolition orders have been on display in your local planning department on Alpha Centauri for fifty of your Earth years, so you've had plenty of time to lodge any formal complaint and it's far too late to start making a fuss about it now."

The huge ships turned slowly in the sky with easy power. On the underside of each a hatchway opened, an empty black space.

By this time somebody somewhere must have manned a radio transmitter, located a wavelength and broadcasted a message back to the Vogon ships, to plead on behalf of the planet. Nobody ever heard what they said, they only heard the reply. The voice was annoyed.

"What do you mean you've never been to Alpha Centauri? For heaven's sake mankind, it's only four light years away you know. I'm sorry, but if you can't be bothered to take an interest in local affairs that's your own lookout."

Xander had to snicker. It was too hilarious. Local affairs. Most humans did not even notice that several demons stood side by side to them right now and were also looking unbelieving up to the sky.

"Energize the demolition beams."

Light poured out into the hatchways.

"I don't know," said the voice, "apathetic bloody planet, I've no sympathy at all." It cut off.

It was a Thursday and Xander could totally agree to this sentiment.

There was a terrible ghastly silence.

There was a terrible ghastly noise.

There was a terrible ghastly silence.


End file.
